My Dancing Day
by Elennare
Summary: "Of course you manse folk can't dance, but it will be fun all the same." Thus Mary Vance, winding up her announcement of the dance that was to be held at Lowbridge.


AN: For disastersaurus, for Yuletide 2015 - I hope you like it :) Thanks to my fantastic beta, bluealoe!  
Title taken from 'Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day'.

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"Of course you manse folk can't dance, but it will be fun all the same." Thus Mary Vance, winding up her announcement of the dance that was to be held at Lowbridge. She had met Walter and Nan Blythe, and Faith and Una Meredith, enjoying the last light of the day in Rainbow Valley, and had seized her chance to break the news.

The phrase did not seem particularly dramatic, yet the effect on two of her listeners was marked. Faith's face fell, and Una's eyes lost their sparkle. Of course they had both known it, really, but it was one thing to have a vague thought of that fact, and quite another to be faced with its reality. Una would never have argued in any case, and Faith said nothing; no argument was possible, she felt, and she didn't care to face the condescension with which Mary would meet an attempt.

Nan Blythe, however, tossed her proud head. Perhaps certain girlish dreams still hidden in her heart, in which Jerry Meredith was beginning to figure, held part of the responsibility; perhaps it was outraged sympathy at her friends' disappointed faces; perhaps it was natural contrariness. Whatever the reason, argue she did.

"I don't see why they shouldn't dance if they want to. There's nothing wrong in dancing!"

"If you can't see why it wouldn't be proper, I don't know how I can explain it to you. I'm just glad Faith and Una do have the sense to see it, and I hope the boys do too," Mary replied, with just a hint of scorn in her voice. Before a bristling Nan could retort, she continued, "Now, I must run. I promised Mrs. Elliott I wouldn't be late!"

Mary hurried off, as did Faith, remembering she too had promised to be home early, to watch her baby brother. But Nan was not to be dissuaded now. Turning to Una, she said, "Well, why shouldn't you? I'm sure Mr. Meredith wouldn't mind, or Mrs. Meredith either."

"Of course Father wouldn't mind, and neither would Mother Rosemary," Una replied - the Merediths had met the Irvings when they came to visit Anne, and had one and all adapted Paul's affectionate 'Mother Lavender' address for their own beloved stepmother. "But some of the parish folk would, and would make trouble for them."

"What business is it of theirs if you dance?" Nan retorted. "Interfering old busybodies."

Una wished Faith had stayed, or Jerry was here to argue for her. They were both much quicker with their tongues, and Jerry especially would have enjoyed the debate. But she must do the best she could. "It is their business. We're the manse family, so we're supposed to… to set standards, and to uphold them. And one of those standards is that we mustn't dance - I don't know why, exactly, but it is. If we did, it would be just as bad as when we did all those things as children, like cleaning house on Sunday by mistake. No, it would be even worse, because now we're not children and we've been brought up by Mother Rosemary. They wouldn't make excuses for us."

"Well, I still think it's silly," Nan insisted. "Of course it wouldn't be proper for your father to dance, but it's not as if you're all ministers!"

There she was forced to stop, as Walter - who had, up till now, sat quietly as was his wont when Nan took it into her head to argue - burst out laughing, picturing his friends in minister's tails. When he explained, Una giggled delightedly, and even Nan had to laugh at the idea. She would have kept arguing, but at that point Di came running down from Ingleside, calling for her twin, and she had to abandon the others.

Walter gave Una a sympathetic smile. "Well, I'm sorry you can't dance if you'd like to. I have to admit I wouldn't mind changing places with you if I could! I'm frightfully afraid I'll make a fool of myself; I haven't had much practice with dancing."

"I don't mind all that much, really," Una admitted. "I like dancing in school, or at home when Mother Rosemary plays for us, but I'd feel horribly shy and silly with a lot of people I don't know. I'm sure you won't make a fool of yourself, though..."

As she spoke, a sudden idea came into her head. Normally she would never have entertained it for a second, but Nan's indignation had stirred something in her. Rainbow Valley in the twilight, too, was an ethereal place, not quite of this world, where somehow rules did not seem to matter so much; and there was something bewitching in Walter's wonderful grey eyes that seemed almost luminous in the half light… Without giving herself time to think, she said in a rush, "I'll dance with you now, if you like, so you can practice."

Walter was on his feet in a moment, hand outstretched. His poet's soul had been thrilling to the beauty around them all the while dusk fell, even as he listened to the girls talk, until he had felt he simply must do something to express it; and there was just the right breeze to set the bells on the Tree Lovers tinkling, as if fairies were playing just for them - of course they should dance. They had to dance. How could they not? Una rose too, put her hand in his, and they stepped lightly around the glade.

Just once around, no more. The wind dropped, the fairy music ceased, and Una - all her usual good sense returning at once - pulled away. "You'll do just fine," she told Walter, laughing to cover her confusion. Oh, if only he would stop looking at her with those splendid eyes of his! It was his eyes, she felt, that had bewitched her so. For a second longer he held her gaze, face serious. Then he flashed her his friendliest smile, and Una breathed out, feeling released from the spell.

"If you say so," he replied cheerfully. "Thank you! I do feel a little more confident. But you needn't worry we'll abandon you all! I promise I'll sit out a few dances with you, and keep you company. I certainly owe you one dance - or not dance, as the case may be."

He kept his promise, despite the Merediths' protestations, at that and every dance. He made especially sure to spend at least one of the dances of each evening sitting with Una, talking of facts and fancies as seemed fitting. If there was any feeling other than friendship for him in those conversations, he did not know it himself. As for Una, the magic of that dance had never quite released her, or so it seemed to her; it was from that moment she began to realise how much she cared for Walter Blythe.


End file.
